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 May 1
Elizabeth Kelly
Today was a sad song day
And I am alive.

I read a poem about love and tomatoes
that moved me to tears

And it’s raining now,
storming.

And I am alive.

Were I a different kind of mother,
the kind from movies,
I would wake you up so we could run outside and dance flailingly in the front yard as the neighbors peer through their slatted blinds, shaking their heads.

The storm has already slowed, though.
It always ends eventually.

The rain will bring tomatoes
and soften the grass between your tiny toes.

And I am alive.

How perfectly my aliveness fits my every me,
how much room there is in here.
If fill my aliveness to the very top, somehow it is never full,
there is always space for another swirling galaxy,
another thunderstorm
another sad song.

Tomorrow there will be tomatoes
and soft grass and tiny toes.

Today was a sad song day.
And I am alive.
Elliot Smith Figure Eight, Beck Sea Change
 May 1
Bekah Halle
Being
Real
And
Valuing
Everything about yourself!
 May 1
Bekah Halle
My curls, full and voluminous, I treasure
Each one tells a story.
People flock to touch,
Grasping them like gold,
They ask: “How did you get them such?”
“Are they natural?” Some scold,
In a world full of fakes, that hits like a punch.
“Yes!” I reply with pride,
My curls are my mane, grabbing them, I scrunch,
Jealousy can slide!
My curls are my shield;
They mask my doubt, comparisons
Much profit they yield!
You can tell a lot from my curls:
When I am tired and lazy,
When I treat them like 'my girls,'
When I'm sassy and crazy.
When they’re not washed for weeks,
My mental health radar
Send me obvious tweaks -
“Don’t disconnect, come back, savour,
Reconnect with yourself and the world,”
My curls are my most significant feature;
My crown of glory.
 May 1
Bekah Halle
Sparkle, little diamond,
Wipe the dust off and
Feel your infinite potential within.
Dormancy may have been your norm,
But no more!
Shine.
 May 1
Bekah Halle
Add voice to my poetry,
Don’t fear how you sound.
Feel the rhythm of my soul,
Open your mouth and shout it aloud.
It might start quiet,
Or even as a small squeak?
You’ve hushed it for too long,
Pull your hands back, so you can finally speak.

Your words might fall on deaf ears,
But don’t be discouraged;
The beat can’t be silenced,
Trust, try, and let yourself be encouraged.
Speak the words you’ve longed to say,
Just like a new language,
It might take a while to master,
But don’t give up, grow in courage.

Learn from others,
Be ok to fail.
T’is a season of new things,
And this path will turn into a trail.
Feel the beckoning, His yearning, and His delight,
Be willing, open your heart.
Play, see, taste, and I say again, trust.
Don’t rush or mourn, it’s just the start!
 May 1
Bekah Halle
Screaming on the inside again,
This horrible feeling hangs over me like shame,
Will it ever be different, or just the same?
Even when the fires are raging all around,
A new fire is taking shape on the inside.

No more, no more, no more!
Give this tune a new name, it’s time to soar,
Time to stop being silent; no, it’s time to roar!
I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown,
It’s time to harvest the seeds sown.

Dream big, play hard it’s time, let’s go!
Put the books on the shelf, there’s so much to know,
In life, through experience, grow in confidence as you flow,
There’ll always be more,
So just step out and taste what’s install!
 May 1
Bekah Halle
There was a little girl,
With a little curl,
But when she looked around
Others could be found
Tall ones, short ones,
Sportier and funnier ones.
They looked like they’re having so much fun,
She thought, miserable, she sat glumly.
With head in hands,
She couldn’t see the fanfare and bands:
Celebrating life in all it’s abundance,
Lost, she was, deep in a trance.
But, then, deeper within,
Life spoke, welcoming her in.
You are loved, there’s no-one like you!
Why look to others, when you know it to be true?!
So off she embarked,
On a new adventure: divinely marked
Out just for her, and you...
Hearts held open can be renewed.
 May 1
Bekah Halle
Opportunity after opportunity,
some could say leads to discontinuity
Or spontaneity?
Can it lead to deity?
Frailty, surely, will come,
But we can spark that with
originality?!
Frivolity can be a gateway,
To birthing new possibilities.
Imagine the ingenuity!
 Apr 30
Bekah Halle
Even though I hold a bouquet of regret,
I shall not fret
Because You will ensure
I never fall.
 Apr 30
Bekah Halle
I've just noticed, 
as I looked up from writing poetry,
A magpie purchased on the high back 
of one of my outdoor setees, 
Staring smack at me 
as I sculpt words.
Fixed, it holds itself still, measured.
Scheming its next swoop;
Taking in my features, 
I was a moving target.
 Apr 30
Agnes de Lods
It isn’t easy to walk, gravity weighs.
The biosuits lock the mind
in a narrow space.

An interpretive blow is crucial:
Does being on the other side of the mirror
truly want it, or only think it does?

A thumb drives into the right temple.
The heart pumps hectoliters of warm liquid.
Colours, sounds, tensions in the eternal swirl.

Delay in processing—eighty milliseconds
it isn’t a flaw.
It takes that long for all the cogs to turn.

Everything I do now is already in the past.
Decisions made long ago spit me out
into this reality with some name.

I am the last, but not least,
in the collective dream and blink of time.

Minds sway like golden grain, ready to be cut.
I can stand up or lie on the ground.

I walk—
toward the next stumble,
the next wound, and maybe healing.

Insights glow like yellow lanterns,
giving me some light.

No justification, no understanding.
My self-awareness is not a cozy couch.

One day,
I will stop existing, and I accept that.
I’m just afraid to leave those who still love me.
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